35 Years On, Omar Is Still Having Fun 🙌🏾

Words: Jesse Bernard
Photography: Adreinne Waheed

Self-preservation as an artist in contemporary music is a concept I’ve been drawn to recently, particularly in my TRENCH columns. In what ways do we remember the artists that formed our earliest memories? How do they allow us to? These are questions that become harder and harder to answer when a lot of underground music isn’t archived correctly; the artists themselves have been doing it for years in the greatest hits compilation format, even if major labels have used it as a quick cash-grab.

Omar’s recent release of The Anthology, a compilation of his own records since his first single “Mr Postman” in 1985, carries significance beyond commercial reasons. I tell the UK soul legend that I was only a child, a baby in fact, when “Nothing Like This” was first released in 1990. Omar is buoyed by the energy his music still has to draw various generations within a family together; he even recalls a time where a fan told him that both her mother and grandmother introduced her to his music. Britain often has selective memory when it comes to what aspects of culture are deemed worthy of preservation, but for the soul scene—which has historically been misunderstood—it’s through bodies of work like The Anthology that it survives. In recent years, many discussed a resurgence of black-led soul in Britain, and while a new generation has emerged, the idea doesn’t accurately reflect architects such as Omar, who are still performing today.

Soul music has always had a visibility issue within the mainstream, but as we’ve seen in the UK, the pioneering strides often made in black music have always thrived out of popular sight. Omar, and The Anthology, is a lasting reminder of the enduring legacy of British soul.

“I always wanted to make tunes that could play in the dance... I’ve still got that fire in my belly.”

What does The Anthology signify for youat this point in your careerbesides being a collection of your best songs?

It’s been 35 years since I first started making music. I’m eight albums deep and there wasn’t really a better moment to put it out. I’m still in love with the buzz I had when I first started making music and performing in front of crowds, so I think this was as much for me as it was my fans. I realised that so many of my fans got into my music at different points, so The Anthology was just a way of having all those great songs in one place.

Do you feel as though The Anthology allows younger audiences to find that segue into your music?

Yeah, I’d like to think that it helps bring in new listeners. The older I get, the more I hear that I’ve been the soundtrack to people’s lives; “Nothing Like This” was my fifth single, it came out in 1990, and it meant a lot to people back then and it still does today.

Interesting you say that because your records were staple in a lot of homes, particularly for black audiences who were getting most of their soul from the States.

Soul music’s always been here but we’ve just never really had the mainstream platform for it. There were things like the UK Soul Train and Flava, but they came and went. In the background, that’s where things are happening and the music’s being made. You won’t necessarily hear those names.

Looking back, do you feel it needed that mainstream support? To me, that is legacy in itself: where the soul scene was able to survive effectively in the margins.

Well, that’s one way of looking at it. From a cultural perspective, there is a real sense of legacy here but at the same time, artists have to put food on the table and have to get second jobs. In the States, the R&B market can survive without the mainstream and it really is down to numbers—there aren’t enough of us here. I’ve been blessed in the sense that my career has provided for me and my kids.

You mentioned you’re working on your ninth albumhas your approach or practice changed this time around?

The same haphazard approach that’s been tried and tested for a lifetime! My music is a mixture of jazz, funk, reggae, Latin and soul, so when you mix that, anything can come out of it. I’m at the point where I’m putting all the jigsaw pieces on the floor and trying to figure out what story I’m going to tell.

What is that story, and has the storytelling itself evolved in any way?

There’s a lot of stories about love and romance. Every now and then I like to step outside of my comfort zone but, generally, my approach to telling stories has always been the same. I always wanted to make tunes that could play in the dance... I’ve still got that fire in my belly.

Speaking of the dance, have you noticed your audience change at all?

It’s interesting because I was speaking to someone who was telling me that they like music, then her mum and grandmother. It’s like you were saying: some people have been listening to my music since they were babies via their parents or siblings, so I do see that different generations out there when I’m on stage.

“It might be an ego thing, but there’s no sweeter feeling than that initial buzz when you’re up on stage… That’s why I still do it.”

Well, for a lot of people in this country, particularly black people who grew up with black music, it’s often passed down. It’s never just this thing but it’s there in the background at parties, churches, christeningsyou name it.

Exactly! And it’s a very powerful thing. Music and food are the two things that bring people together, which is why a lot of memories are tied to them.

Will music always be there for you?

How do you mean?

That desire to just keep creating, I guess. You’ve been doing it for over three decades and where a lot of artists might do other things, is music still the thing for you?

100%! Unless something happens where I’m no longer in that headspace, but it’s always been the main thing in my life. There was one point in my life where it wasn’t and that was in primary school, when I used to play football and that was the same time as band practice. I had to make a choice and music’s still here. If I stopped doing that today, I wouldn’t know else I’d be doing. I’ve tried my hand at other hands but this is what I know and love.

Do you feel as though The British Collective was the natural course, given how long you’ve known the other members?

Myself, Don-E, Junior Giscombe and Noel McKoy, we’ve all known each for decades and we do certain shows together. We see each other now and again and we still have that bond, but I’m very much solo dolo when I work. I always work with other people but there’s a certain zone I get into when I’m by myself. I do a lot with my brother, particularly on the last album [Love in Beats] and he’s the person I work with the most.

Bigger tracks like “Golden Brown” and “Nothing Like This” must still get a lot of love, but has your relationship with those songs changed?

The reaction I get from crowds is still crazy. I just did a show in Madrid and there’s nothing like the buzz of seeing people you don’t know, singing the music that you wrote. To me, it doesn’t really matter when it was written. It might be an ego thing, but there’s no sweeter feeling than that initial buzz when you’re up on stage… That’s why I still do it.


Posted on May 04, 2020